


Berserker

by BroltaAMaga



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-01
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2019-03-12 02:16:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13537560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BroltaAMaga/pseuds/BroltaAMaga
Summary: BerserkerListen: Danheim’s Berserker: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qj1RS9vHcswInfo about Beserkers http://www.historyextra.com/period/viking/the-truth-about-viking-berserkers/VERSION ON TUMBLR IS BETTER WITH PHOTOS- I am HvitserksGirlVikings- Rollo has been alluded to being a Berserker as he and Jarl Borg ingest something before fighting Ragnar, and there is one at the siege on York as well, with a large hammer. Here I imagine one of these brutal, bloodlusty warriors as he returns to his woman after battle… still in a hypnotic trance, and now lusting for her.This is OC x Reader 18+ NSFW, death, blood, hallucinogens, war injuries, rough sex then some fluff





	Berserker

You had fallen asleep waiting for him.

When he flung open the door, you were naked, on your stomach on the furs and his tight grip on your ankles was what woke you. He split your legs apart as he pulled you closer, growling low like the bear he was. As he dragged you towards him, the furs rumpling under your belly, weren’t afraid. You knew it was him, every inch of your body knowing his callused hands well, but the shock of it and being so abruptly ripped from sleep had made you gasp anyway.

It was dark in the hut you shared, the fire banked and most of the candles burned out. A few remained lit, flickering low in warm pools of wax, their retained heat and light holding out hope, just like you, that your warmth and glow would be pleasurable and useful to someone. To him, your Tarben, your Bear of Thor, your Berserker.

He smelled of blood, of fresh death. It wasn’t repulsive, like rotting death would be; it was quite the opposite, thrilling, sending a wave of excitement through you. It meant life. It meant he’d won, he’d conquered enemies, felt their last gasps of breath on his face, sprayed their blood across himself. It’s sharp, metallic scent meant he was here, returned to you by the gods and was yours again to enjoy.

 

You had only a moment to glance over your shoulder at him as he reached around your middle and roughly pulled you up onto all fours. His eyes were unfocused, wild, the pupils blown with drug, amplified so much so you couldn’t see but slivers of the clear blue iris normally there.

He tore off the scrap of a cloth he wore in battle and stood there before you, now wearing just his bear skin and his bare skin. His chest heaved, his hands balled at his sides into fists as he stared you down. He’d always been a large man, but this time his swollen manhood actually intimidated you a bit, looking larger and more throbbing than you could ever remember. His dark red hair was in long tangles, the braids you’d carefully woven and leather thongs you’d tied earlier long gone in the crush of battle.

His bear-shirt, the very Ber-serk he and his fellow elite warriors all wore and were named for, was draped across his shoulders and was fastened at his neck with a splinter of Saxon tibia from a raid last Spring. That wasn’t even the most striking part of his ensemble… when he’d killed and skinned the bear, he’d left the head attached, but cracked and gutted out the skull, fitting it perfectly to his own. It always reminded you of one of the creation stories of your people… just as Tarben had scooped out the brains of the bear, so had Odin and his brothers with that of Ymer, the giant of Ginnungagap, the nothingness in the beginning of the world. Ymer’s skull had become the curvature of the sky and the flickers of fire from the fiery south lands of Musspelheimr had become the stars.

 

He’d received two onyx gemstones as plunder from that same raid and fitted them in the eye sockets, so while Tarben’s own eyes were dull with the mushrooms he’d ingested earlier, the bear stared into you, his eyes glinting in the candlelight as if alive.

The bear and Tarben had essentially become one, their spirits and skins woven together. It was as if the bear was full of the life spirit Odin had breathed into Elm and Ash, the first two people Odin and his brothers created after they had slain the giant Ymer and created Midgard, the realm of humans.

The bear’s teeth gleamed at you just as Tarben’s did as he snarled, grabbed at your hips. You faced forward and scooping your back, arched your hips to signal you were prepared, unsure if he noticed or was able to care at all.

Although the sight of him, Berserker or not, always sent a surge of arousal through you, you hoped you were ready enough. You’d had sex with Tarben after he’d battled as a Berserker before and you knew it’d be rough, fast and vigorous.

This time was no different. He stood at the edge of the bed, lined up and thrust into you with such force you saw not just a few stars but every single remaining spark of Muspellheimr at once. As delicious agony pulsed through you, then smacked into pleasure, your mind thought of the comforting, breathtakingly beautiful old stories of your people, like that of the beginning.

As your Tarben, your auburn beast, plowed into you, you gritted your teeth against the searing heat where he was and thought of Niflheim, the realm of darkness and eternal cold that existed in the North before everything else. It was contrasted by Muspellheimr in the South, the land of blazing fire and in the middle was Ginnungagap, the yawning void. It was as if Tarben was the searing heat, you were the contrasting cold and you were joined in the void of your loins. Just as Muspellheimr’s heat had melted Niflheim’s glaciers, you were a mix of one another in the middle, dripping and pulsing. With every hard stroke of Tarben’s, your body gratefully began to yield, warm and slick to him, and he chilled slightly, the both of you melting together, the void disappearing and you both becoming one and of the same realm. 

 

Tarben’s growl then tore you from your imagination of the creation story and you were thrust back into the world of Midgard with him, drilling into you, sending bolts of pleasure through you like Thor’s lightning. His nails dug into your soft hips and you sucked in your breath as waves of your climax built and rippled through you. The force of it shoved you from your palms to your forearms, and your forehead onto the mattress as your cries split the night’s silence. Tarben, if he could even be called such at that moment, the bear spirit so strong within him, followed with a roar that practically shook the walls. He arched back, convulsed against you, his hipbones jarred out of rhythm, and his roar dwindled to a groan. Still inside of you, he tore off the berserker and then withdrew and collapsed onto the furs beside you. As he fell, he curled an arm around you and pulled you close, your glistening back against his sweaty chest.

You let him catch his breath, counting ten inhalations before you asked him, “are you back, my love?” He chuckled, pulled you closer but you slid to face him, effortlessly, aided by your slick skin . His climax had broken the spell, his blue eyes were clear and focused as he smiled at you. He reached up and pushed your red curls from your face, his eyes filled with such tenderness, you thought your heart would shatter.

 

“I’m back my fiery queen, my love.” He pulled you down to his mouth then, kissing you slowly and so thoroughly your toes curled and kicked the bed repeatedly like an over eager child. Your hands went to his own red hair and got caught instantly in the tangled mess. You pulled back, frowned at him and he laughed again. “I’m sorry my love. I know you worked hard on those braids. It was a wild battle, what I remember of it, which isn’t much.” He laughed at that and you gasped, grabbing his chin in your fingers and pushing up the edge of his upper lip. 

“What?” he asked, confused, puling away slightly.  
“You chipped one of your front teeth!”

Tarben’s fingers went to his mouth, felt the small jagged bit and he smiled sheepishly. You had to admit, it was cute, but the thought of how it had happened made you shudder. You’d watched Berserkers readying themselves once and as the drugs kicked in and battle approached, they often bit their shields to distract and terrify their enemies.

You clicked your tongue at him as you turned, reached for your comb on the small table near the bed. “Sit up,” you commanded and he did, groaning. Now that the drugs had worn off, he felt the sting and ache of his injuries. You settled behind him, wrapping your legs around his middle to address his knotted mane but then looked over his naked body. He sighed contentedly and stroked your long calves in his lap.

None of his injuries were life threatening, but he’d certainly been possessed by the bear spirit as he’d fought, oblivious to scratching branches and briars, and nicked by swords and knives.

You traced your finger over one deep scrape on his bicep, and he hissed. You put the comb aside and reached further to the other side of the bed, pulled a small clay bowl with a piece of linen covering it out of the drawer. Tarben saw it and scrunched up his nose. “That stuff stinks and it stains my clothes.” You smacked his shoulder scoldingly and began spreading the salve thinly on his cuts. “Would you rather your wounds inflame, drip with pus and you end up losing your arm or worse?” Tarben pursed his lips into a pout but acquiesced, knowing you were right. You kissed his shoulder, trailed your fingers down to his. “Besides, I need these hands, these fingers.”

Tarben twisted to look over his shoulder at you, his eyes burned at your words, your touch and he reached around, pulled you into his lap, guiding your hips on his. You put the bowl back on the table, rolled your pelvis slowly against his, gasping as his lips went to your neck.

 

“Wait my love…” you started and he sighed. “Wait? I can’t possibly,” he breathed urgently, nipping your earlobe in his teeth. You desperately wanted to let him roll you onto your back and make slow love to you, but you knew your body and his well enough by now that if you held back a little, the agony of it would make it all the better later. You picked up the comb again and he groaned, his hands traveling over your breasts, cupping them and tracing the nipples with his broad thumbs. You struggled to focus as he hefted their small weight in his palms, and while you did start combing out his knots, your body betrayed you and your thighs tightened against his middle when he bent slightly and his mouth suckled them. He kneaded your hips as his tongue circled and sucked one nipple, dragged across your cleavage, then the other and you began to lose your breath and your focus.

You worked some of the larger knots out, smoothing his long hair between your fingers as he slipped two of his own within you. He pressed his head into your shoulder, watching, as you tried to stay on task, unsuccessfully. After thirty seconds, you tossed the comb aside and scooped handfuls of his hair into your hands, arching your back and riding his fingers, moaning. You felt a knot of your own, of your desire building quickly in your belly then and he stroked it out of you with his fingers curled against your inner walls. You squealed, pushed onto him, the pleasure lifting your backside straight off his lap, shuddered and then melted into him with a kiss and one last moan.

As you came back into consciousness, you registered his fingers withdrawing, but being quickly replaced with him, his cock. He gasped as he felt you were still pulsing and raised his hips harder into you. Your hands grabbed urgently at his face, your thumbs right on his delicious lips, guiding his mouth to yours. You crushed him with a kiss and weren’t sure if the pleasure radiating through you was the remainder of the one from his fingers or a new one from his cock now. 

You simply rolled against him, enjoying it and then gasped when you realized it was a new one. Tarben saw it too, smiled and put his fingers between the two of you on the outside of you, to coax it out of you, to encourage more moans from you.

It was practically too much, feeling like you’d been taken by two men in one night, the animalistic, lust fueled Berserker and then now your sweet, strong man full of so much caring for you and your pleasure that you nearly cried out with joy. Tarben, your beautiful Tarben, slid his other arm around your back, pulling you closer, enveloping you as his breath ratcheted up into a needy groan. You curled into him, nestled your face into his neck, wrapped your arms around him and you both came, every sparking fire of Muspelheimr filling the blackness behind your closed eyes.


End file.
